


My Favourite Game

by Miss_L



Category: British Actor RPF, British Comedy RPF
Genre: Fluff and Crack, High School, I suppose, M/M, Slow Build, Theatre
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-10
Updated: 2014-11-30
Packaged: 2018-02-20 15:57:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2434559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_L/pseuds/Miss_L
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Robert's superior acting skills are not the (sole) reason why Jack Whitehall hates him so much?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Come on, it had to be done!  
> I claim no knowledge of Jack Whitehall and Robert Pattinson's private (past) lives, and all events depicted in this fic are entirely fictional. It's a joke, people.  
> Huge thanks to black_kitty_cat (sherlinlokidtardis@tumblr) for help with research and general awesomesauceness ^^

The audition had gone bad enough. But the first rehearsal was even worse. Jack couldn’t focus for the life of him – that basketball he’d had fly at the speed of light against his head during PE might have had something to do with that… Being shouted at by the “director” in front of everyone certainly hadn’t helped matters. _Today is not a good day, _the boy thought ruefully as he peeled some paint off the bench he was sitting on – a bad habit. Someone else was there. Jack turned around to tell whomever it was to piss off – this was his spot! – but then he paused. It was the pretty boy, Robert what’s-his-face, and he was standing in the shadow of a tree, looking quite uncertain with himself.__

__“What do you want?” Jack grunted, his voice too squeaky to sound at all threatening._ _

__The older boy advanced and sat down, careful to leave space between them._ _

__“If it’s any consolation, I think you’re great,” he said._ _

__“No, I'm not,” Jack sighed._ _

__He was still feeling down, but having someone be nice to him helped a bit. And sure, this was the golden boy, destined for great things, everybody’s favourite, blabla – all that was enough to make Jack dislike the guy from the moment they first met at the drama club. But if Whitehall was honest with himself, he had to admit that the git _was_ quite charming. And maybe a little bit hot. Robert smiled in that peculiar manner Jack had seen him do on stage before – apologetic, perhaps? _Definitely charming._ Whitehall grinned a little in return._ _

__“Good start of the year, eh? I wonder if it can get worse.”_ _

__They giggled together at that. Robert’s eyes crinkled with his smile, his not-completely-straight teeth glinting in the sunlight. Perhaps today wasn't that bad, after all._ _

__***_ _

__“Good job today, old bean!” Jack half-shouted and playfully punched Rob’s shoulder, then recoiled in shock. “Oh God, I don’t know why I said that. That was horrible!” The boy looked down at his friend’s sneakers and felt himself blush._ _

__Pattinson laughed and punched Whitehall’s shoulder in return._ _

__“Not too bad yourself, ‘old sock’!”_ _

__Why did it feel so natural to laugh along with Robert – ‘Rob’? Jack grinned like a complete idiot at the older guy._ _

__“Going home now?” Pattinson asked._ _

__“Yeah. You?”_ _

__Robert nodded and they started walking in the direction of the bus stop. There they stood awkwardly, in the true teenager fashion, hands in their pockets and looking at anything but each other. Pattinson cleared his throat._ _

__“Hey, d’you want to- I don’t know, go into town with me tomorrow?”_ _

__Jack’s head whipped around so fast, his neck actually made an old-person creaking noise._ _

__“Why?” He felt himself blush again, but surely, the great Robert Pattinson wasn't asking the lowly likes of him to hang around his majestic presence? This must be a hallucination – or a joke?_ _

__Robert was avoiding his searching gaze._ _

__“Just for fun?”_ _

__“Hmmm.” Jack wasn't convinced that this was not some elaborate plot to make fun of him, but he needed new shoes anyway, so why the hell not? “Deal.”_ _

__Robert finally looked up and him – again that cute shy smile! Before Jack could interrogate his friend as to his motives, the bus arrived._ _

__“I’ll see you tomorrow at East Putney?” Rob asked, quietly, right before he got off at his stop._ _

__“Yeah,” Jack answered meekly, his nod somewhat exaggerated._ _

__“Okay.”_ _

__The doors closed behind him. Jack watched the lanky youth walk away until the bus left the station._ _


	2. Chapter 2

For the first time in forever, Jack wasn't actually late, and yet Robert was already there, waiting. The older – and taller – boy was leaning against one of the poles in front of the station, looking positively sinful in his leather jacket. A jacket, it has to be noted, that Jack had never seen before. _Bloody goody two-shoes,_ he thought with sudden irritation, and almost turned back on his heels. Shoes. He needed shoes. And that was as good an excuse as any to raise his hand and catch Robert’s attention before he chickened out. The answering smile dissipated Jack’s doubts.

“Hungry?”

They hadn’t talked much during their tube ride or their walk-through of several shopping streets, so Jack was almost surprised to hear Rob’s voice. He thought the question over – one of these days, he’d have to stop thinking quite as much. Yes, he was definitely getting peckish.

“Sure, yeah.”

“Lunch’s on me,” Robert told him, speeding up.

By the time Whitehall had caught up, the older boy was already sitting on a terrace, sunlight glinting off his shades. Jack sat down opposite him gingerly, not sure where to put his hands, or where to look. He settled on softly kicking the table while staring intently at its top. Rob was surveying him from behind the glasses – not even being subtle about it! – small smile crinkling the corners of his kissa- Weird lips. Finally, after several agonising minutes, the waitress came around to take their order. Jack hid his face behind the worn and stained menu while Rob told the lady what he was having.

“Panini with Mozzarella and pesto, please,” Whitehall finally decided and beamed at the waitress. She wasn't looking at him, surveying the cut of Rob’s jacket with hungry eyes instead as she jotted down the order. “And an ice tea,” Jack added, mainly to annoy her. Pattinson didn't glance her way once.

“You know pesto has garlic in it, right?” he said.

“So?” Jack was only partly interested in the answer to his question, having spotted a _very_ attractive young lady. He saw Rob watching her, too.

“So no-one will want to kiss you.”

“Who- Whom would I be kissing, anyway?” Jack felt a blush spread itself over his cheeks. The attractive lady spotted her boyfriend and threw herself at him. _Tourists._

Robert shrugged. His half-smile had returned. Jack avoided looking at him for reasons he didn't fully – or at all – understand. They ate in silence, then paid the bill – well, Rob had insisted on paying the whole thing, but Jack wasn't “down” with that – and went back to looking for the perfect sneakers. All further talk about kissing was studiously avoided. 

\---

“Nice shoes, Whitehall!”

He didn't care about the bullies. He liked his new shiny Nikes. Robert had picked them out.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: mention of cancer in "light" setting, not meant to be an insult or offensive, just so you know.  
> And I know absolutely nothing about the English school system. So there xD

Rob’s lips on his. Long fingers ruffling his hair, caressing the nape of his neck, moving over his shoulders and down his torso while their tongues battled for dominance. Jack knew Robert had won that particular fight, of course, but he’d be damned if he admitted it. Pattinson’s hot crotch against his, hands wandering further down with predatory intent. Heat, friction, sweat…

Jack jolted awake, coming promptly in his pyjama bottoms. His mother was banging on the door – he’d overslept again. Damn. That dream was going to haunt him for the rest of the week, and they had rehearsal the same evening. Double damn. Whitehall Jr threw his pjs in the wash, got dressed and grabbed a toast off the breakfast table before running out the door. He had missed the bus – of course – which meant he would get his third tardiness slip, which, in turn, meant detention. Triple damn, damn, damn!

“Hey, Jack!”

The boy pushed his hands deeper into his pockets, took a bracing breath and turned around. There he was, the git. Gleaming white teeth, bared in a jovial smile, bagpack slung over one shoulder, impossibly long fingers _(don’t stare at the fingers, Jack)_ gripping the strap. Jack couldn’t hate him, even if he wanted, of course. Pattinson strolled closer.

“Wanna hang out before drama class?”

“Detention,” Whitehall grunted and looked down. It seemed even more unfair to be punished, now that he would miss a few hours in good company.

“Oh, okay,” Robert answered, voice lower and somewhat quieter. Jack tried not to read too much disappointment into his tone.

The taller boy looked around him until he caught the eye of a female teacher – a dragon of a lady in thick glasses whom everybody feared beyond measure – whispered “Sorry” into the ear of the girl closest to him and pinched her bottom.

“Pattinson, detention!” was possibly the shrillest thing ever heard in the school halls.

Jack grinned goofily, still not entirely certain what had happened. All he knew now was that the prospect of picking up garbage throughout the building didn't seem so grim anymore.

***

Another rehearsal gone terribly bad. However, this time, it wasn’t Jack’s fault. It was, in fact, the lead who was down on his mojo. Rob seemed distracted and forgot half his lines. It would have been hilarious if it weren't so disconcerting. 

“Are you okay?” Whitehall asked when they walked to the bus together. Again. He was trying to come up with a way to tell Robert to take it easy without sounding too much like his mother. He didn't think Pattinson was ill, but one never knew…

“I'm fine,” the taller boy answered airily, but both knew it wasn’t quite true.

The bus shelter was pretty full by the time they got there. The last bus was due any minute, but it never came. Twenty minutes later, the tutting en masse indicated what Jack had feared – they’d have to walk home. Robert, on the other hand, looked rather uplifted when he set course East. Whitehall had to almost jog to keep up. They walked in silence until they had almost reached Robert’s street. Then he stopped and turned around to Jack.

“Hey, about rehearsal… You’re right, I'm not okay.”

Whitehall tried to catch his breath, but also look properly concerned (but not quite as concerned as he felt – that would be a most un-British thing to do), which probably resulted in him looking constipated. Luckily, Robert was too preoccupied with trying to express his thoughts.

“I'm- I think I'm in love with someone,” he finally blurted out.

Jack felt like laughing with relief (his mind had managed to jump from flu to tumor to prostate cancer in the short time it had taken the other boy to formulate his words), but then he remembered how horribly painful it was to be in love with someone. Not to mention awkward and nerve-wrecking. A tumor suddenly didn't seem all _that_ bad in comparison. A pang of hope was quickly replaced by melancholy – of course it would never be him…

“Okay,” he ventured, when Rob stayed quiet. He wasn’t sure if the boy was avoiding his gaze – it was rather dark around them. “Who is it?”

Pattinson only shook his head sadly and turned away, ready to march up his street. Then he stopped and a rather wicked smile took over his features. 

“Come to my place after school tomorrow?”

“Sure,” Jack shrugged. “Will you tell me who she is then?”

Robert flashed his teeth. “Maybe.”

Whitehall would bet anything it was the leading lady – the beautiful and unattainable Isabelle. Well, they _would_ make a lovely pair, he thought resigned while he trudged home.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is turning into an awkward teenage drama, is it not? xD

Jack was surprised to find that Pattinson’s extensive collection of video games was overshadowed by an even bigger compilation of books. Some drama – full works of Shakespeare, _of course,_ but also quite a lot of classical and contemporary literature. Whitehall couldn’t help touching the spines of the older books – it was a thing. Robert watched him with that same infuriating half-smile he always wore. The object of his gawking blushed and turned away from the book-case.

“So… Halo?”

“Sure.”

Jack was trying not to get distracted by Rob’s proximity, but clearly, he wasn’t very good at that – he died every time. When “game over” flashed at him for the fifth time, he put the controller down and cursed rather loudly. Pattinson burst out laughing, making the entire bed shake. Which promptly reminded Jack that they were in his _room,_ on his _bed,_ and perhaps this wasn’t right _(why, then, does it feel good?)_ and-

“I should be going,” the younger boy finally announced when the guffawing had died down. Robert grew serious.

“I didn't mean to offend you,” he offered apologetically. 

“Oh no, it’s not that! Just… Homework.”

Oh _dear Lord,_ Jack could slap himself. Homework? Really???

“Oh, you can do that here. If you want.” Was Robert Pattinson, the great and mighty golden boy actor, stammering and blushing? What was this witchcraft? “I can help,” he concluded with a very goofy, yet endearing grin.

 _Definitely witchcraft,_ Jack thought as his hands reached for his bagpack of their own accord and pulled out his history book.

“I'm really bad with remembering dates,” he confided weakly.

“Same problem,” Robert told him and took the book from his hands. Suddenly, his lips were incredibly close, the heat radiating from his body almost singing Jack’s left side. The amazing smell of his eau-de-cologne – or deo – managed to effectively make the other boy weak in the knees (thank Heaven he was still sitting down) and those eyes… Jack fancied that he could get lost in the green, blue and grey swirling around his irises. Just like that, they were kissing. It was a bit sloppy – especially on Jack’s part, who’s never kissed before – and kind of awkward, but also nice and soft and hot and tender. Robert’s hands pushed gently against his sternum, but before Whitehall could comply, a remnant of _that_ dream hit him. He scrambled away, panting and wide-eyed. Robert sat back on his haunches with a concerned expression on his face, swollen parted lips glistening.

“I should go,” Jack whispered hoarsely, grabbed his bagpack and scampered without listening to apologies. He ran all the way home. When he got to his room, he finally broke down in confused and angry tears. He didn't come down for supper.


	5. Chapter 5

Jack had managed to avoid the object of his crush and shame for three days. Finally, Rob had had enough. Whitehall hadn’t noticed the other boy sneaking up behind him and his heart almost stopped when Robert whispered “hello” right in his ear. Jack turned around quickly and gulped. _Too close._

Pattinson was fiddling with the strap of his backpack and frowning. Then he looked around, took a large gulp of ear and blurted out what sounded like a much-rehearsed speech. He didn't look at Jack.

“Look, I'm sorry about the other day, and I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable or anything, I just-“ He paused briefly, but went on before Jack could interrupt. “I had promised to tell whom I was in love with, and… And now you know. I'm sorry.” He turned around and made to go.

“Why?” Whitehall squeaked. Robert froze. Slowly, he turned towards the other boy again, this time at a safe distance. _Still too bloody close._

“Why what?” He looked genuinely confused.

“Why me?” Jack looked down, shame blush burning his cheeks. He watched Robert’s sneakers step nearer. A warm hand landed on his shoulder, grounding him before he finally looked up.

“Because you’re perfect.” The git looked like he actually believed it. Jack’s sarcastic self-deprecating laugh died in the back of his throat. _He’s serious!_ Robert giggled nervously and let go of his shoulder. Then his smile turned sad and he shrugged.

“I should go, I have an extra class.”

“See you at rehearsal!” Jack half-shouted after him.

***

Maybe it was his second bottle of beer that someone had sneaked into the theatre “for after”, or maybe the fact that Robert’s eyes hadn’t left his throughout the drama teacher’s lecture, but Jack found himself pulling the older boy along backstage and pushing him against a wall in the dark room. The kiss was still mainly a train wreck on his end, but he was a quick study, and Robert was quite the teacher. Again, the dream came back to Jack, but this time, he let it wash over him, let it guide his hands and lips. He kissed Robert’s jaw, slightly rough with stubble, then his neck. The older boy surrendered willingly, making small moaning noises throughout. His hips jerked gently against Jack’s, pulling away when he became aware of his movement. Alcohol bubbling in his brain, Whitehall snuck his thigh between Rob’s legs, eliciting a long moan. The boy seemed to be quickly falling apart, one of his hands scrambling for purchase on Jack’s shoulders, his other tugging at Jack’s already unruly hair.

“We should be getting back,” Robert panted a while later, still holding on to the other like his life depended on it. Or, perhaps, his sanity.

“Uh-uh,” Jack acknowledged against his collar bone, equally unwilling to let go. He moved his leg gently against Rob’s straining crotch, making his opponent practically scream in pleasure and need. 

“Shit, Jack, don’t make me-“ 

It was too late. Jack felt a really wicked grin spread over his face and he repeated the movement. Robert’s head fell back against the wall with a hollow thud. Jack was kissing him again, swallowing the increasingly loud noises as he brought the other boy steadily – and swiftly – to an orgasm. Pattinson caved in, rubbing himself off on Jack’s leg vigorously. Whitehall felt his companion tense up without a sound (teenage boy-instinct borne from parents sleeping next door, no doubt), then slump against the wall.

“Asshole,” he protested weakly, then kissed Jack forcefully. 

Jack giggled. “We should really be getting back now.”

“I hate you,” Robert complained, but the fond – and sated – look on his face contradicted that statement.

“No, you don’t,” Jack teased and pulled him along. Robert let him be in charge a little bit longer.


End file.
